An Unconventional Courtship

by Dorothy Mack

  “Yes, but Cleone, could you not attend to your uncle’s work earlier?”

  “What do you take me for, girl, some kind of ogre?” Lord Brestwick interrupted his daughter-in-law to glower at his granddaughter. “Naturally, Cleone is free to go off gallivanting with the rest of you, if she wishes.”

  Dimly, Cleone was aware of gratitude toward her great-uncle and Isabella for their support, but most of her awareness was taken up with trying to contain an uncharacteristic surge of pure rage directed at her spiteful cousin. The girls had never been friends, but up till now Cleone had not allowed herself to become annoyed at Emerald’s occasional barbs. It was a case of considering the source, and as the elder, she thought it her duty to avoid being betrayed into unbecoming retaliation. Now, thanks to the interjections of the others, she was able to bite back the angry retort that sprang to her tongue, although silence in this case was no indication of forgiveness. Rage was settling into a fixed determination to be just as uncooperative as it was possible to be. Let Emerald have a reason for her complaints for once. She would go.

  “Cleo, you will come with us, won’t you? Lord Altern will be so disappointed if you cannot be there.”

  Cleone smiled at an anxious Cecily. “Why, yes, I think so. It has been almost a year since I was last in Brighton.” She turned to Lord Brestwick with an exuberant little laugh. “If you are sure you can spare me, Uncle, I am just in the mood for an outing and a taste of someone else’s cooking for a change.”

  The earl’s malicious smile appeared. “Kicking over the traces, eh?”

  It was perhaps fortunate that Lady Henley spoke at that moment, sparing Cleone any reply to her uncle’s observation. The older woman was concerned with the embroidery she was applying to Emerald’s new white muslin walking dress. “I am not at all sure I can have it finished in time for you to wear on Wednesday,” she ended, sending her daughter an apologetic look.

  “Oh, Mama, you promised it would be ready for our luncheon.”

  “I know, dearest, but that was when we thought to decorate the hem only. When you decided you would like the design to outline the neckline too, it meant many more hours of work.”

  “Please, Mama, can you not finish if you work on it for the rest of the day and tomorrow?”

  “Why not wear the dress with the green ribbons?” suggested Cecily. “That is very becoming.”

  “He’s already seen me in that.”

  “What has that to say to anything? Gentlemen only notice one’s clothes if they are inappropriate or if they don’t happen to like the colour.”

  “Do not judge all men by that country hick who is dancing attendance on you. Lord Altern never fails to comment on my gowns. He has exquisite taste.”

  “Well, if that is the case,” retorted Cecily, incensed at her sister’s disparagement of Bernard Ludlow, “he’ll surely never choose you, for a more selfish cat —”

  “Girls, please stop that squabbling this instant!” implored Lady Henley. “Your grandfather will think you were raised in a barnyard.”

  “The gentler sex,” murmured Lord Brestwick sardonically as he rose to his feet. “It would be quieter living in a barnyard. If this is the way you intend to conduct yourselves in Brighton, Altern will take to his heels.”

  “I’m sorry, Grandpapa.”

  Cecily’s apology brought no more than a “harrumph” in acknowledgment as the earl stalked out of the room. The door had no sooner closed behind him than Emerald returned to importuning her mother to finish her new dress on time.

  “I’ll try, dearest,” sighed Lady Henley, “but I wish you will not annoy your grandfather in the future.”

  “Oh, bother Grandpapa!” declared Emerald sunnily, jumping up to hug her mother’s shoulders. “Thank you, Mama.”

  “If you think a dress is going to make Lord Altern ask you to marry him, you are a bigger peagoose than I took you for.” Cecily was allowed the last word as her sister left the room without deigning to reply to this taunt.

  Meanwhile in Brighton, the oddly matched pair of gentlemen was getting along much better than might have been supposed, given Lord Altern’s opinion of Henley’s recent escapade. Until the ride back home from the scene of the attempted robbery, Jason knew nothing good of the young man beyond his seat on a horse and his gentleness with his youngest siblings. The uncomplaining fortitude with which he bore that ride and the somewhat lesser trial of endurance of the drive to Brighton the following day went a long way toward softening the older man’s harsh opinion. Jason saw the exhausted youth settled into a bedchamber in the set of rooms he had hired for a month at the Castle Inn. Gregson knew some part of the truth, but the inn servants were told their guest was recovering from dental surgery.

  When Philip had slept through the afternoon and had his wound checked and pronounced to be healing nicely by his host, they partook of a selection of the inn’s culinary offerings. At dinner, they discussed the logistics of repayment. Philip, anxious to discharge the debt now that Jason had withdrawn the funds from his bank, was all for calling on Lord Carberry that same evening despite his painful ribs, but Jason’s strongly worded comments on the inadvisability of appearing before his creditor with any unexplained physical ailment finally prevailed. Neither did he deem it wise for himself to act as Philip’s agent in case Lord Carberry had gotten a good enough look at him to identify the busyhead who had interrupted the robbery attempt. They compromised with a note sent round to the marquess’s lodgings explaining that the aftereffects of an abscessed tooth made it impossible to wait upon him in person, but offering to send an immediate bank draft by messenger if his lordship so desired. A civil reply from Carberry expressed his willingness to wait until Henley’s indisposition should be past.

  This accomplished, Philip had only to wait with what patience he could command until Lord Altern declared him medically fit for public inspection. The boredom of his convalescence was enlivened by offerings from Donaldson’s Circulating Library selected by his thoughtful host the morning after their arrival in the seaside town made popular by the continued patronage of the Prince Regent. His seclusion was nearly total, except for the limited time Lord Altern could spare him from house-hunting for his aunt.

  In the summer months, Brighton overflowed with members of the ton who followed their prince’s example in leaving the hot city for the reputed benefits of sunshine and sea air. Having impulsively begged his aunt’s assistance, it was up to Jason to secure suitable accommodations, a quest that soon proved his initial optimism to have been totally unfounded. The most desirable residences were snapped up in May. Even in this year of 1815, when a significant portion of the cream of society was in residence in Brussels, there were no houses to be had or even a set of rooms commodious enough for his purpose by late June. By the end of that first week in Brighton, Jason couldn’t escape the suspicion that he would really be testing Aunt Bess’s devotion if he were forced to book rooms in a hotel. Both the Old Ship and the Castle Inn were centres of Brighton social life, alternately holding the local balls and assemblies and hosting card parties every evening. The sheer bustle that was part and parcel of these popular establishments would drive his retiring relative to distraction.

  It was a stroke of sheer blind luck that placed him in Ragget’s Club, where Mr. Wyscombe, one of his aunt’s elderly admirers, spotted him staring into space with a newspaper in his lap. The old gentleman stopped to inquire for Lady Pendleston. In the course of the conversation Jason mentioned his difficulty in finding a situation for his aunt, whereupon Mr. Wyscombe reported that the Breedons, who had hired a fine house in the Marine Parade, were being forced to leave Brighton by the sudden demise of old Lady Breedon. The dowager viscountess, after staging several well-attended deathbed scenes over the past decade, had finally slipped off this mortal coil with no fanfare whatever.

  Feeling somewhat akin to a vulture but determined not to let anyone beat him to the prize, Lord Altern called in Marine Parade immediately. His proposal to take
over the hired house for the remainder of the lease period was well-received by a harried Lord Breedon, and he lost no time in dispatching a letter to Aunt Bess containing the relevant details.

  The second hurdle, the situation with respect to the health and finances of his young guest, was resolved with equal success by the end of that first week. With his debt discharged and the Henley emerald back on his finger, Philip was shyly pleased to accept his host’s casual invitation to remain in Brighton for another week or two. Jason had come to see that the boy was not lacking in intelligence or moral fibre, only common sense and worldly experience. There wasn’t an ounce of harm in him, but from the various circumstances of his upbringing he badly needed his confidence built up. It would cost him nothing to keep a temporary eye on the lad and hint him into the way of things. He felt rather guilty receiving Henley’s inarticulate gratitude, knowing he deserved no credit, since he would put up with most anything to maintain the slender link with Cleone.

  Impatience and satisfaction mingled in Jason as he sent off the invitation to the Hardwicke ladies for the promised luncheon party. After an acquaintance of only one week, he felt each day of Cleone’s absence with a keenness that astonished him. He had been merely teasing her when they talked of love at first sight during their walk around Bramber Castle. No more than Cleone did he regard this phenomenon as existing outside of fairy tales and literature. He still didn’t believe in it, nor did he wish to analyse his feelings in the empty hours that had to be lived through before he would see her again.

  All he knew was that he wanted her with him — here and hereafter.

  Meanwhile, there was Henley to introduce to Ragget’s Club and a luncheon menu to arrange with the kitchen here at the Castle Inn. He had decided to entertain the ladies in the private parlour of his suite. The furnishings were adequate if not elegant; hopefully, a substantial order to a florist would disguise any deficiencies along that line.

  Wednesday morning, Philip went off alone to meet his relatives while Lord Altern remained at the inn to supervise the florist’s efforts. The ladies were taking advantage of a rare trip into Brighton to visit Donaldson’s to replenish their supply of summer reading matter.

  Philip was strolling along the Steine when he noticed a well-set-up gentleman dressed in the height of fashion coming toward him. They greeted each other civilly, upon which Philip would have passed on to cross the street, but the other paused.

  “I hope I see you fully recovered from your dental problems, Henley?” Lord Carberry inquired, his cold eyes seeming to bore into Philip’s cheek.

  “Yes, thank you, everything is fine,” the younger man replied, ignoring a twinge in his tender ribs.

  “Are you visiting in Brighton? I understood that you lived some few miles distant.”

  “I’m staying in town for a week or two.”

  “My word, who is that?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Philip blinked but soon realized that Lord Carberry’s transfixed gaze was directed somewhere behind him.

  He was already turning as the other man breathed reverently, “That vision across the street, the brunette in white with the green parasol. She seems to be trying to attract your attention.”

  “Oh, that is my sister, in fact, two of my sisters, my cousin, and my mother. I must not keep them waiting. If you will excuse me, sir —”

  “Not so fast, old chap.” Lord Carberry’s hand in its dove-grey glove clamped onto Philip’s arm. “I intend to stick to you like a mustard plaster until you present me to your sister.”

  “Of course,” Philip replied politely but without enthusiasm, and led the other toward the feminine party standing on the glazed red-brick pavement outside of the library. Emerald, he could see, was now busily searching in her reticule, apparently unaware of the men crossing the street.

  After a brief communal greeting for the young women, Philip seized his mother’s hands and bent forward to kiss her cheek.

  “Darling, you look so much better today, but your poor tooth!” Lady Henley smiled at her son with concern and affection.

  “I am fine, really. Mama, may I present an acquaintance of mine, Lord Carberry?”

  Fortunately, his sisters’ attention was focused on the exquisite bow the marquess was making a smiling Lady Henley, or they might have remarked the slight start from Miss Latham at mention of his lordship’s name. Philip flashed her a warning look that was unnecessary, for she had recovered her countenance before Lady Henley proceeded to make Lord Carberry known to her cousin and her daughters.

  Cleone’s cool assessing look rapidly took in the glossy chestnut waves covering Lord Carberry’s well-shaped head, the broad white forehead, the long straight nose and sculptured cheekbones above a jaw that was the slightest bit too delicate for her taste. Clear hazel eyes looked confidently out at the world beneath thick lashes any woman would covet, and he held himself so as to gain the benefit of every inch of his above-average stature.

  The handsome marquess had a gleaming smile for each of the young ladies, but it was to Emerald that he addressed himself when the introductions had been completed.

  “Do you make a long stay in Brighton, Miss Hardwicke?”

  “Why, no, sir. We are just here for a few hours today.”

  Stark disappointment sounded in Lord Carberry’s voice.

  “Oh! Your brother was telling me that he was staying in town for some little time. I assumed you ladies were doing likewise.” His eyes flickered to Lady Henley, who was regarding her son in some surprise.

  “What is this about staying in town, Philip?”

  “I was going to tell you at lunch, Mama, that Lord Altern has invited me to remain with him for a while. And that reminds me, he will be expecting us shortly.” He glanced at Lord Carberry. “I am afraid we must be going, sir. We have an appointment at the Castle Inn.”

  “I’m heading in that direction myself,” the other replied smoothly. “If you ladies do not object to another escort?” Taking their smiles for permission, he offered his arm to Emerald.

  Philip fell into step with his mother, and the other two young ladies made do with each other’s company.

  “Do you have some objection to Brighton, Miss Hardwicke?” asked Lord Carberry as they pulled slightly ahead of the others.

  “Not at all, sir. Why should you think that?” Emerald swept him a demure look from under long lashes.

  “You appear like a heavenly vision to dazzle the eyes of mortals and then inform me that you plan to disappear in a few hours. Such wanton cruelty is not to be endured.”

  Emerald’s gay laugh tinkled. “I protest, sir. Where is the cruelty in merely accompanying my family to a luncheon in Brighton?”

  “How else could one describe the act of dangling a prize before a man’s eyes and then removing it from his grasp in the next instant?”

  “But it is not by my design, sir, so the alleged cruelty cannot be mine.”

  “You argue most eloquently, Miss Hardwicke, but I, alas, am still the victim. Do you not agree that some restitution is due me?”

  “Perhaps,” conceded Emerald, “but I do not quite see that it is in my power to make such restitution.” She was the picture of puzzled innocence, and Lord Carberry pounced.

  “Ah, but it is within your power to grant me permission to call on you at another time.”

  “Willingly, if my mother permits, but surely Bramble Hall is very out of the way for social calls.”

  “The moon would not be out of the way if that were your habitation,” Lord Carberry declared fervently.

  Emerald’s laughter trilled again. “I fear you are an accomplished flatterer, my lord.” A provocative upward glance accompanied this accusation.

  “Nothing I could say to you, not the most extravagant compliment, could be construed as flattery within my understanding of that opprobrious term.”

  Lord Carberry had the infinite pleasure of witnessing an added glow to Miss Hardwicke’s beautiful face before their agreeable dallia
nce was brought to an abrupt halt by the proximity of the Castle Inn. To the private satisfaction of both participants, he insisted on taking a correct and prolonged leave of the entire party in the face of Philip’s rather obvious attempts to hurry his relatives inside the hotel. Miss Hardwicke had the added satisfaction of knowing she alone was the cause of his reluctance to depart. As she lowered and shut her parasol with painstaking care, she rewarded Lord Carberry with her most brilliant smile and a flirtatious flick of black lashes before allowing her brother to conduct her inside.

  CHAPTER 14

  From some inexplicable cause, Cleone’s heartbeat had speeded up uncomfortably as they neared the Castle Inn, a condition she was at pains to conceal from her host when he welcomed them just inside the entrance. She strove for coolness and achieved aloofness, as the quick flicker in Lord Altern’s seeking eyes warned her. He greeted Lady Henley first with a warm handshake, then turned that charming, slightly mocking smile on Emerald.

  “In that enchanting gown you will have every gentleman in Brighton at your heels and every fashionable young lady gnashing her teeth, Miss Hardwicke.” Before Emerald could reply, he spoke to Lady Henley again, “Do I detect your skilled hand in this beautiful embroidery work, ma’am?”

  “Why, yes,” acknowledged that lady, most gratified to have pleased his connoisseur’s taste.

  “I thought so. You have a real flair for design, ma’am. Your daughters are fortunate indeed to be the beneficiaries of your talent. And you, Miss Cecily, how dare you grow prettier each time I turn my back?”

  As Cecily blushed and disclaimed under the paternal version of the smile he seemed to reserve for her, he passed on to Cleone, who steeled herself against whatever form his practiced gallantry might take.

  “You are a cool refreshment to the eyes on this hot summer day, Miss Latham. Welcome.”